Reality
by Dancho
Summary: Reality is concrete. At least, we like to think so. Spoilers for X2 & Stryker's motivation.


Title: Reality

Author: Dancho

Fandom: X-Men (Films)

Disclaimer: Own nothing… I live in a box and wear a barrel.

Type: One-shot

Rating: Hard T (PG-13)

SHIPs: Landlocked

Summery: Reality is concrete. At least, we like to think so.

Time: Pre X-men, referencing to X2

Warning: Contains suicide, unrepentant 'evil-doing,' and obnoxious lack of character names. This story is a spoiler for a tiny part of X2.

Author's Note: Un-BETA-ed. Inspired by the Harry Potter fanfiction "Luna Blinked" by codenamelily. It's amazing and beautiful, though really sad.

* * *

If she read too long, she got headaches. So, she wasn't surprised when, as she turned to page one hundred of the book her son had bought for her, she felt one beginning.

Sighing, she got to her feet and wandered across the house she lived in with her husband and her son, when he was home from… school, and got a bottle of aspirin down from a shelf in the bathroom. Filling a glass with water, she swallowed two of the white tablets and bent to wash her face in the sink. Reaching out, she groped for a towel, her fingers jerking back in surprise when one was thrust into her hands without warning. Quickly getting over her shock she took the towel and wiped her face before looking up at the person next to her.

"Hey Mom. Can I go to John's place?" Her son asked, as he leaned against the doorframe.

Her eyes widened as she took in the horrible burns that covered her son's skin in terrible red and black colors and a scream built up in her throat as her son's charred skin began to crumble away, falling to the ground in a pile of ash.

"Dear?" Her husband called, and her eyes snapped open to see her husband standing over her. She glanced around, desperate to figure out where she was. Sitting upright, she found that someone had spread a blanket over her lap and her book had fallen to the floor. "Are you ok?"

"Y-yes. I… I… must have fallen asleep while reading," she muttered, taking a deep breath to calm her racing heart. "I'm… I'm fine."

"I didn't ask that, mom," her son's voice, coming from her husband's mouth, told her and she started, the dish in her hands falling into the kitchen sink and shattering. "Mom… were you listening?"

"I… I'm sorry," she apologized, her head spinning. Hadn't she just been sleeping in the living room? Where was her husband? Why was she washing dishes with her son?

"Daydreaming again? I know you're not into science, but shouldn't you just tell me if you're bored?" Her son pouted, as he reached into the sink to clean up the broken shards of porcelain.

"Ah… don't do that," she told the boy, reaching out to grab his hand. He jerked back in surprise and her hand went past his, and a shard of the plate slashed into her finger, causing blood to trickle down. "Shi-shoot! Shoot."

"You ok?" her son asked, and she nodded as she stuck her cut finger into her mouth. "Sorry about that… I… I didn't mean to…"

"It's ok. It just stings. I'll get it. I'll clean this. Just get me a Band-Aid, ok?"

"Mom…"

"Don't worry. I'm fine. Now… that Band-Aid?" She smiled at him, not wanting him to worry. Secretly, she was glad of the cut. The biting pain had shocked her, but it was a relief, slicing through the post-daydream fog and confusion.

"Ok… if you're sure," he replied, his eyes—one brown and one blue—unable to hide his worry, and he slipped out of the room to get a bandage. Sighing, she looked down at the broken bits of what had been a plate and rubbed her face.

"What is happening to me?" she asked herself.

"I'm sorry, dear. Did you say something?" Her husband asked and she looked down the table to watch him spear a slice of beef and put it in his mouth.

"What?" She whispered. Hadn't she been reading? Or was that a dream? Was this a dream? Another daydream? Was it real? Her eyes darted around the room, nervously, almost daring the room to switch into something else.

Perhaps it was a dream within a dream? Or maybe she had finally woken up?

She reached down to pinch herself, unaware of the worried look her husband was giving her, but remembered that she'd had a headache before and that had been a dream.

Or was it?

"Honey, you look tired. Why don't you take a nap?" her husband suggested, reaching out to touch her arm. She knew he meant well, but the thought of sleep, more importantly dreams, made her stomach tense and she recoiled from his touch.

"No! I… I'll take a walk," she whispered and fled from the table.

She went to her room and sat down on the bed, rest her head in her hands.

"Excuse me, Mrs… What's your name, again?" A voice asked and she looked up in shock to find herself in her son's old elementary school. Or was it his old school? Surely, she hadn't dreamt the last seven years? It couldn't be! This must be a dream!

"NO!" she screamed, standing up so quickly that her chair toppled over. "WAKE UP!"

"Ma'am! Calm down!" the teacher yelled, making his way over towards her. "What's wrong?"

"Don't touch me! It's a dream! A dream!" she cried, running out into the hall. "WAKE ME UP! WAKE ME UP!"

She was so busy screaming at God, she almost didn't feel the pinch of a needle entering her skin.

She opened her eyes and found herself staring at a ceiling that was not the one in her bedroom.

"Where…?" she whispered.

"You were at a meeting at the junior high and started screaming. You had to be sedated and brought here." A voice replied and she looked over to see a nurse checking a few monitors.

"How long have I been here?" She asked, finally noticing the heart monitors and other wires that were connected to her skin.

"Just over night. Your family's here. Would you like to see them?"

"My… family?"

"Yes. Your husband and son."

"Ah… yes. Please."

"All right. Be right back," the nurse smiled and disappeared out the door. A moment later, her husband and son came in.

"Mom!" her son called, running over to give her a hug and her husband reached out to take her hand.

"Hello. I had… the strangest dream…" she told them, smiling apologetically.

"Really?" her son asked, looking curious. "About what?"

"It seemed like it took years," she told him. "At first it was normal. You went to junior and high school. And then… you became a mutant…"

"A Mutant?" her husband asked. "What's that?"

"A person with special powers. Super-human," she explained, her eyes looking past her family, into her memories.

"Like Superman?"

"Almost," she told her son. "Almost."

"How silly," her husband laughed, before leaning over to kiss her. "But at least you're better now."

"Yes. Better…" she replied as she pulled herself back to the present and smiled down at her son. "I'm just fine now."

She leaned down to give her son a kiss on the forehead and found herself looking at a wall of books. A library, she realized, looking down at the book in shock. She was in a library.

"Ma'am? Are you all right?" A voice asked and she turned to see a young librarian standing next to her.

"Yes?" she asked, looking around, her eyes wide, like a lost child.

"I've been trying to get your attention for a while. Library closes in ten minutes."

"Of course," she replied and, as she wandered past the librarian to the exit, she looked over at the largest window in the library.

"What floor am I on?" she asked.

"The fifth," the librarian replied. "Why?"

"I hear, if you die in a dream, you wake up," she mumbled to herself, barely conscious that she was even speaking aloud. She walked over to the window and pulled the catch to open it. The wind whipped at her skirt and she took a deep breath, before toppling over, allowing the wind to take her. She saw the librarian reaching out for her, but she didn't bother to reach back. It was a dream. She'd wake up at home. She'd wake up.

The ground was coming toward her fast, and she tensed on instinct, bracing for impact.

And entered a kitchen supply store. She heaved a sigh. She'd almost come to accept it.

It was all a dream. Nothing was real. Perhaps, she was a dream, too. Looking around the store, she went to the cutlery section and idly looked at the carving knives.

"Can I help you?" A clerk asked.

"I just want to wake up." She replied, her hands reaching out for the largest, sharpest knife she could find and, without warning, she plunged the knife into her chest. She fell to her knees and shuddered violently, vomiting blood, as the knife grazed one of her ribs, and then slid part it to find her heart.

Her head hit the floor, her face scrapping along the rough cement of the laundry room floor. It felt good, the pain. She could pretend its sharp sting was a sign of reality. She felt a cool hand on her forehead and she opened her eyes to see her son kneeling next to her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, wiping the sweat and the few drops of blood from her face. "I just… I just wanted to know how far I could push. I was just curious."

"I know," she whispered, but it was too late. She had to know. She had to know if it was real. If any of it was real. It probably wasn't. She'd probably end up in a garden in a few minutes. Maybe Spain?

She got to her feet and leaned down to kiss her son's forehead. She wondered if she was crying. She could feel the tears running down her face, carrying away the sweat and grime that was on her face. But… she felt calm. As if this was right.

"It was just practice, mom," he called out, but he didn't follow her. So she walked out to the small shed that was near the house and idly picked up a large power drill. She'd bought it for her husband. Christmas? Or was it for his birthday? Maybe she hadn't. It probably was just part of the dream.

She seemed to remember that he'd never used it. He'd always been too busy at work… and he'd never been a very good carpenter. He'd never used it now, she thought, as she brought the drill bit to her temple.

She wondered, for a moment, if she should do it, kill herself, but decided it was all right. If this was another dream, it wouldn't hurt anything, and if, and this was a big if, if she was finally awake… at least she'd know. She'd be certain of something for once.

So she did it. And as she pulled the trigger of the drill, through the pain and the whir of the drill, she heard her husband scream for her.

But it was all right. Everything was perfect. Because, as the blackness replaced her vision, she knew it she had found reality.


End file.
